Tobacco Time; growing up in Jacksonville

When I was seven and my brother was almost nine, we were put on a bus
to a small town in South Georgia where we would be free labor, no matter
how small it was. I guess our parents felt that a little taste of what they had
to endure when they were growing up would be beneficial to both of us. For
me it was. I decided at that time there was no way I would ever become
a farmer.


Tobacco Time!
By L Don Oliver

When I was just a little shaver,
Brother not much older in rhyme;
Both, in a dusty Georgia field,
During tobacco picking time;

In that I was the youngest,
I drove the tobacco sled;
And those who were older,
Picked tobacco til they bled;

Brother got mad that I was,
Guiding "Old Bob" down a rut;
He took out his slingshot,
And hit "Old Bob" in the butt;

"Old Bob" took to flight,
Flinging me to the ground;
They searched for several miles,
Before "Old Bob" was ever found;

Our uncle was down right indignant,
He wasn't in a forgiving mood;
He retrieved a tobacco stick;
And whacked my brother good;